28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36...who knows???

So, I know I always seem to be writing about birthday freebies and treats, but one thing most people don't know is that my birthday doesn't mean much to me. I no longer get excited and anxious to turn another year older like I did when I was a child. I don't get that bubbly, proud feeling inside me when my birthday month comes. I don't even really like birthday parties. Why?

Well, I don't know when my birthday really is.

Now, what kind of life is that?

Strange. It makes me feel like even more of a weirdo than ever before...

Not too long ago, it surfaced through some strange conversation that my parents did not know my actual birthday. They only went by what the orphanage told them. Basically, my birthday is made up (and this, by the way, was delivered to me in a very matter-of-fact tone, like it was no big deal). Go figure. Not only do I not know anything about where I came from or who my birth mother is, but I don't even know how old I am! So, all this time I've been thinking my birthday was in March, when really, it could be any day of any month...it could be today, for all I know.

I have been struggling with not knowing how old I actually am, and it just makes me lose yet another sense of my identity--and this is something that I thought was a solid piece of me, when all along, my birthday, my own AGE was just a guess! I could be 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36 years old...who knows? Your guess is literally as good as mine!

This is why my birthday is so difficult and meaningless for me.  It's always been an acidic reminder that I was born (but born to whom?), and now it's a reminder that I don't even know how old I am.

It's like, I officially have no birthrights...even to a bona fide birthday.